


Watch Me Unfold

by oneforyourfire



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, Webcam/Video Chat Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-12-16 12:15:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11828559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneforyourfire/pseuds/oneforyourfire
Summary: Joonmyun, he’s only been gone a week, but it’s beenawfulwithout him. And it's taken this long for Sehun to break. This long for him to crack and ask first.





	Watch Me Unfold

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: webcam sex, lowkey romantic angst?, tbh dkink in everything but name
> 
> because suho said that sehun's lonely without him, title from alina baraz's "unfold"

Sehun’s laptop whirrs, beeps to life, and Sehun is ready, eager, maybe almost desperate. Aching already, practically thrumming with anticipation.

The door is locked, lube, dildo within reach. Joonmyun’s _in 30 minutes_ text read and responded to 26 minutes ago. And Sehun is seated crosslegged on the bed, dressed simply, soft cotton clothing, loose, easy enough to tear off as he burns beneath Joonmyun’s heated gaze, falls apart at his words.

Joonmyun, he’s only been gone a week, but it’s been _awful_ without him. And it's taken this long for Sehun to break. This long for him to crack and ask first.

Joonmyun, he’s too steady a presence, an awful and heavy longing when he’s gone, and Sehun, he needs him. He needs this. He needs to be needed back, too.

_I miss your cock_ , he'd sent. _Need you to fuck me again, hyung_.

And sometimes it feels safer, easier almost to miss the sexual things. The heat of Joonmyun’s mouth at Sehun’s throat, the bruising possession of his fingers on Sehun’s hips, the searing rasp of his every low _Sehun_ and _baby boy_ against his collarbone, the burning ache of Joonmyun’s cock in his ass. It’s easier, safer to miss muffled moans, dragged out orgasms, husky praises as Sehun squirms and writhes and needs and gasps and comes.

It’s easier, safer than missing the steady, comforting pulse of Joonmyun’s heartbeat against his cheek, the whisper-soft drag of Joonmyun’s reverent, soothing fingers along his skin, the stain of Joonmyun’s cologne, body wash, sweat on his pillowcase, the utter tangle of electronics, clothing that Joonmyun leaves behind in his wake, the worrying fussy tuts about Sehun’s diet and health.

But at night in his too-big, too-cold, too-empty bed, it’s so easy, so damningly easy to let the heaviness of this overwhelm him, heart aching for more than sex, for crumpled sheets and sleepy nuzzles right against the crook of his neck.

This is maybe about self-preservation.

And it’s easier, safer to miss the way that Joonmyun fucks him hard into the mattress, has him scrambling and sobbing as he bites into the fabric of their assorted pillows, trembling with every thrust.

Joonmyun’s been gone for a week, and it’s easier, safer to miss Joonmyun’s cock. It’s easier, safer to blame it on his libido, flaring still with the receding waves of teenage hormones. Infinitely easier and safer than saying it’s been _just_ a week, and that Sehun feels a distinct gnawing in his chest, a prickle of annoyance, too, maybe resentment, something as childish as jealousy for every moment that Joonmyun hasn’t asked for him, wanted him back explicitly enough.

And Joonmyun, yesterday, he had laughingly mentioned the glorious anonymity of his filming schedule, stumbling out of CVS, soju in hand, drinking straight from the bottle, long forgotten youthful abandon, a celebration, a heart-to-heart, a glorious moment of sweet, sweet youth, sweet, sweet freedom—without Sehun.

And even just, just reflecting, has that gnawing growing, nearly unbearable.

Because somewhere, somehow along the way, I love you hyung became I _love_ you, hyung, a natural progression that Sehun is still too scared to voice aloud sometimes. Especially right now. It’s easier, safer now to try and put on a show for Joonmyun, rest assured in the physical, the carnal, the undeniable way that Joonmyun _wants_ him, a negotiated vulnerability, a safe safe confession. It's so much better to dwell on that, work with that, as Joonmyun swims in his vision, unfocused, but smiling, laughing as he tries to right his own laptop.

He’s in his hotel room, surrounded by a mess of discarded clothing, a makeshift fence of hotel-issue pillows and sheets, pale blue against the stark black of his own clothing. Loose, too. Easy to tug off, too. Joonmyun wants this—him, too.

But no, he’s too polite, less needy, starts to ask about Sehun’s day. How has he been eating? How have schedules been? And the other members? What about—

“Hyung,” Sehun interrupts, and Joonmyun’s responding smile is entirely too smug, entirely too self-satisfied. “Hyung, I—I want.” He swallows heavily, eases himself into character. “Lonely,” he whispers, spreading his legs, injecting the words with all the dark need, none of the quiet despair.

Joonmyun shuffles, and the speakers crackle. “Missed my cock,” he says, and Sehun nods in spite of the embarrassed heat spreading across his cheeks, down his chest. “I thought,” he starts, briefly shy, maybe even flustered. “I thought, I was, you know, I was waiting for you to ask me. I thought you’d ask sooner. I thought I was the only one, but you’ve missed me, too.” Sehun’s heart jolts painfully. “Just—just kept it quiet.”

“I’ve learned some self control.”

Joonmyun smile is more indulgent now, if not disbelieving, slightly teasing.

“Been masturbating that much, too, huh?”

Sehun bites his lip hard, but nods.

Joonmyun’s laughter is loud, but not unkind. His eyes crinkle, throat jumps with it, warm, beautiful, but no, that’s not the point of this.

“Every day,” Sehun continues, pitching his voice deeper. Needing, trying to be needed, too, he splays open, tilting back, meeting Joonmyun’s gaze from beneath his eyelashes. Smaller and more vulnerable and more pliant for Joonmyun’s sake. He tugs his pants loose.

And Sehun notes the strain in Joonmyun’s smile before it falters, fades completely. His lips purse, nose crinkles, eyebrows furrow, and Sehun is emboldened.

“I get so _hard_ thinking about you,” he starts, tilting to prove it, showcase the tented fabric near his crotch. “I touched myself once today already,” he supplies, head lolling back as his fingers flutter over the strain of his erection, teasing.

And he _had_ , in the shower, biting into his forearm, as he’d imagined Joonmyun behind him, sliding his warm, slippery fingers around Sehun’s cock, a series of searing, wet, wet kisses along Sehun’s tense, taut back as Joonmyun’s cock dragged between Sehun’s trembling thighs, a memory, vivid and oh so potent.

“In the shower,” he adds.

Joonmyun, predictably, groans. And he’s tilting forward, too, the heel of his palm grazing over his cock, too, his movement slow, languid. His jaw falls slack, and there’s a taut, gorgeous tension in his entire body, hard, hard lines as he moans.

Sehun matches Joonmyun’s pace, lets his lips fall open so that Joonmyun can hear just how turned on he is, touching himself even light and teasing like this. “And I came, too, thinking about you,” Sehun gasps. “All over myself.”

“Messy,” Joonmyun chides. And Joonmyun, he’s sliding his pants, his boxers down to midthigh, a beautiful contrast of pale skin against dark, rumpled clothing. Joonmyun, he’s wrapping a loose fist around his cock. Not, not quite hard, not quite yet, but working towards it, close enough already, considering it’s just been Sehun’s body, Sehun’s words at this point.

“It’s not as good without you,” Sehun whispers, ruined, breathy. A _come back_ bubbles up his throat, bitter and heavy on his tongue. He smothers it with a moan, fingers dragging down more insistently at the seam of his tented pants. “I miss the way you touch me, hyung. I’m not patient like you are. I—I need you to tell me how,” he groans. “You always know how to touch me best. Always know how to make it feel good.”

“Slow,” Joonmyun says, pushing his wrinkled shirt up, out of the way, dragging fingers up his taut stomach, skating over his ribs.

“Hyung,” Sehun urges. “Take it off.” And Joonmyun spares a smile as he tugs his shirt free. The collar catches on his head, musses up his hair, the muscles in his chest, his arms shifting beneath his skin as he does. And Sehun wants to press his nose into the sweet spot between his shoulder and his neck, inhale the musky scent of him as tremors wrack up Sehun’s spine, as Joonmyun tells him how good he is, how much he wants him, how he wants him _most_. Because breathless, disheveled, barechested, flushed with arousal, he’s what Sehun wants most.

“You, too,” Joonmyun says. “But—but slowly,” he coaches. “On late nights when we don’t have schedules the next morning, when I can take my time. _Appreciate_.”

Sehun shudders, sliding the fabric free, slow, slow, slow his fingers trembling at Joonmyun’s groan of appreciation. His burning gaze is an almost physical weight on Sehun’s skin, hot and heavy and perfect.

“Boxers, too,” Joonmyun adds, groaning again as Sehun follows through. He’s stroking himself languidly, his lip caught between his teeth as he watches. “Fuck, you’re _gorgeous_.” His grip tightens, breath hitches. “Touch yourself, too.”

Sehun does, deliberate and drawn out, for Joonmyun’s benefit, to Joonmyun’s liking, his head tipping back, lips falling open in a whimper, and Joonmyun’s breath catches again.

“Slow, baby. Slow.”

A shared moan. Joonmyun’s thighs trembling, the muscles in his stomach jumping as he watches, urges Sehun to keep going. Just, just how he’s done it for him in the past. Flick your wrist just like that. Pinch your nipples and imagine that I’m biting them just like that. Moan for me louder, just just just like that.

And with Joonmyun guiding his movement, it’s almost like Joonmyun is there, right there, taking him apart piece by piece, though Sehun’s hands are too big, though Joonmyun’s voice is too far away, though Sehun’s body is too cold.

Joonmyun, he's telling him how good he looks, telling him to tease over his balls, to imagine it's Joonmyun’s mouth on him, grazing over his sac, alternately biting into his thigh, savoring all the while, because between Sehun’s legs—that’s Joonmyun’s favorite place to be.

Blinking up blearily, biting back a sob, Sehun catches the tremble of muscles beneath Joonmyun’s skin as he quickens his strokes, and Sehun wants to be writhing underneath him, gasping at his ministrations, biting into that bicep as his body trembles, pleasure tearing him apart at the seams.

And _fuck_ , even though this is so, so good, a fucking gift of a substitution, Sehun is still selfish, so fucking greedy for more.

“Hyung, I—I— _please_ —“

“What do you need?”

“Your fingers,” he confesses in a hiss, biting his lip hard, shuddering at the reverent curse on the other side of the screen.

And fuck, fuck, it’s maybe pathetic just _how_ acutely he misses Joonmyun’s fingers, just _how_ badly he aches for that perfect, perfect way they always curl inside of him. And he misses also the utter focus on Joonmyun’s face as he touches him like this, the heady affection as he praises Sehun for taking it—him—so well, so eager, so hot, so fucking good. His Sehun is always so good.

“Spread your legs for me, Sehun.” Another reverent, reverent curse, the lowest hiss of approval. _So fucking beautiful_. “Fuck yourself on your fingers. Nice and slow.”

Sehun fumbles with the lube, smears it on his fingers, eases two fingers inside without preamble, more eager, clumsy than Joonmyun is, but good enough. Worthy still of husky, husky praise.

“So pretty,” Joonmyun rasps. “I miss you so much. Want to be there. Want to lick you open,” he breathes. “Have you grinding on my tongue. Love the way you taste. Love the way you moan.”

Sehun does, just just for him, in recollection, a third finger circling, teasing at his rim as Joonmyun’s harsh pants echo in his ears.

“I’d suck your cock, too,” he continues, decides, moaning as he drags over the pearling precome on the head of his cock. “Move between the two. I want to taste you. Want to make you a mess with just my mouth, my fingers.”

Sehun shudders heavily, writhing more desperately on his fingers, introducing a third, spreading them. The pleasure jolts up his spine. And more than anything he wants. Fuck, he _wants_.

“ _Hyung_ , please. Hyung, fuck me.”

A ruined hum of approval has him fumbling for his dildo, slathering it in lube. Shaking, so badly shaking as he tilts back, catches Joonmyun’s rapt gaze.

And _Slide it in_ , he’s coaching. Know you can take it. You’re always so good at taking it, aren’t you?

Sehun whimpers, recalling soothing fingers running up and down his sides, soft, soft sounds of comfort pressed against his chest—so, so good, Sehun, so fucking _good_ , I’ve got you, and you’re so, so good—the first all those months ago.

“Right, Sehunnie. You can take it, right?”

“Yes, yes, _yes_.”

The stretch has tremors wracking up his limbs, has a high-pitched moan falling from his lips, has Joonmyun releasing a dark, rich, ruined moan, arching more into his own fist.

“You’re always so tight,” he groans, his stroke fast, hard, wrist flicking, muscles flexing. Sehun scrambles to match his pace. “Barely any room inside for me. Always feel so good.”

And Sehun is imagining, remembering the words seared into his throat, punctuated in between thrusts, tattooed hot and so, so possessive along his sternum in bruises, fading bite marks.

He wants to close his eyes, lose himself in the fantasy, but he doesn’t want to miss every fluid stroke, every arousal-laced pant. Joonmyun is breathless on camera, flushed down to his chest, utterly disheveled, utterly affected, his hair falling in his eyes, his lips bitten and red, his body straining with every drag of his own palm over his cock.

Sehun thrusts the toy faster, the silicone squelching obscenely as his head lolls against his shoulder. A graze against his prostate has his spine arching, his limbs jolting, nearly upending the laptop as his body trembles with pure, pure pleasure. He sobs out Joonmyun’s name.

“Sehunnie,” Joonmyun rasps, and his other hand falls to drag over his balls, his movements so fast, sloppier now, fracture lines in his control.

“On me, hyung,” Sehun gasps, and Joonmyun groans heavily, eyebrows pinching, red, bitten lips falling opening in a long, long moan. He’s so fucking _close_ , Sehun knows. And at this point, he’d be biting along Sehun’s collarbone, grinding into Sehun punishingly hard, whispering the filthiest praises along his throat. “Come on me, hyung. On my chest.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Joonmyun groans, flushed cock twitching in his hold. It’s angry and red and pulsing. Gorgeous. Sehun wants it—fuck, fuck, fuck he _wants_ it. Wants it dragging over skin, wants it spurting hot and wet across his skin, dotting him with speckles of come in the most banal, filthy possession. “Want it that bad?” he manages, so, so tight, so, so strained, so, so deep.

“Mark me up,” Sehun urges in a ruined whisper, wrist aching as he flicks the toy, dragging purposefully over his prostate, teasing, cruel, the way Joonmyun does when he wants him to feel Joonmyun on every breathless exhale. There there there—where he needs him most.

“Want to smear it into your skin,” Joonmyun rasps. “My beautiful Sehunnie. Mine. Mine. Mine.” He underscores every syllable with a tight, tight stroke, and Sehun responds in kind with fast, fast jabs. His entire body trembles, wracked with pleasured quakes, breathless sobs falling from his swollen lips.

“Kiss me,” he whimpers, wanting it, needing it, an anchor through the fathoms of pleasure threatening to overwhelm. He’s drowning. He’s drowning. “Hyung, hyung,” he whimpers.

“I will,” Joonmyun groans, recklessly loud. “I’ll kiss you for hours. Hold you for hours. I love you. I miss you. I want you. Sehun. Sehun. Sehun.”

And Sehun’s pace falters, his heart swelling, a desperate sob tearing itself out of his throat. He’s brimming. He’s almost, almost, almost falling. “Please, _please_.”

“Come, come, come.”

Joonmyun’s pillow at his side smothers his long, long moan as the tension snaps, his body collapses back.

Somewhere in the haze of white-hot pleasure, he registers a rich groan. _My Sehun_. And a horrible, horrible warmth suffuses his entire body, more potent than the afterglow.

Sehun doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Sated, flushed, he settles for a breathless almost sob, limp head lolling forward to watch an equally sated, flushed Joonmyun stir, all his prior tension replaced with a beautiful languor. His smile is lazy, real.

Sehun’s heart skips.

“You’re so beautiful, Sehunie. So fucking precious,” he breathes, and if Joonmyun were here, Sehun would be smacking at his shoulder for that, groaning in exasperation at the utter cheesiness of his words.

But he isn’t, and that’s the point.

“I love you, hyung,” he says, instead, treasuring them. Storing them away for moments when it’s safer, easier to assume that Joonmyun doesn’t want him as much, want him the same as Sehun does. (I _love_ you, hyung)

“I love you, too.” Joonmyun’s cheeks bunch up as he smiles, wider now, and his smile, his eyes are so dazzling. Painfully so. Sehun misses that, too.

“I miss you,” Sehun admits and Joonmyun’s smile falters just slightly, face pinching with concern.

And Sehun feels his chest squeezing tighter and tighter, dense, dense need compacted, heavy and small with the weight of his want. But but but he’s also too, too full, brimming with emotion, the excess threatening to leak out. But he’s not going to—

No, he _promised_ himself that it was safer, easier not to make it about that, and he was absolutely not going to—

“Sehun,” Joonmyun whispers, terribly fond, soothing, bemused. And Sehun wipes fruitlessly at his eyelashes, with his fist like a child, grumbling because—

“Sehun,” Joonmyun repeats, briefly louder, adjusting. “Look at me.”

Sehun can see where he’s streaked across his own stomach and chest, can see the fading flush along his collarbone, his throat as he swallows, smiles again. Different now, almost sad.

“I _really_ miss you,” Sehun says, despair staining his words more openly now, and Joonmyun sighs, maybe even laughs, a breathless puff that has Sehun’s heart clenching tight, has more of those stray, traitorous tears stinging at the corner of his eyes. He wills them away.

“I miss you, too.”

“No, hyung, I—I—”

“It’s hard to sleep without you,” Joonmyun interrupts, lips pursing, eyebrows tilting downwards. And it _is_ sad then, his smile. “I miss you hogging the blankets. Miss your knees knocking against my hip in the middle of the night. Miss your sleep-mumbles.” He exhales shakily, voice thicker. “I miss you, too. Really, Sehunnie. I love you, too.”

“You’re not supposed to be so perfect,” Sehun decides in a grumble, and Joonmyun’s smile is less sad now. More a smirk.

“Neither are you.”

Sehun groans past his tears, swats at his laptop, and Joonmyun laughs.

**Author's Note:**

> 2015 crosspost!!!


End file.
